GIFT GUIDE

"

A

by Harry Kirsbaum

ome
memo-
ries are hazy now
but I do remember tak-
ing a grown-up stab at having
fun during the Chanukah sea-
son when I lived in the Wrigleyville neigh-
borhood of Chicago.
It was some mid 1990s-year, and I
worked at a trading desk near the pork-
belly pit at the Chicago Mercantile
Exchange.
Having grown up in the not-so-Jewish
city of Flint, I was comfortable around
non-Jews and their pork products.
As a kid, I was a bit jealous of the toys
my neighbors raked in during the holidays.
All I ever got for my eight days was a toy
gun and seven pairs of socks.
Now I was living with a roommate who
was with his second fiancee. They spent
their evenings decorating the Christmas
tree, playing Wyndham Hill Christmas
music and drinking.
And me: I didn't have a dreidel. I didn't
have clay.
I needed to get back to my roots.
It was through a friend of a friend's
cousin that I was invited to a quasi-
Chanukah potluck party among not-so-
young-anymore single Jews at a Lakeshore
Drive high-rise hosted by a newlywed cou-
ple who had met at a Trivial Pursuit party
in Evanston a year earlier.
I was told to bring dessert — a culinary

stretch. Those who
know me know better than to
ask me for anything other than
chips and salsa.
During a grocery run a week
before the party, I stopped by the
dessert counter at Jewel, the neighborhood
grocery chain, and sifted through the cake
catalogue.
I spotted the Santa Claus "Happy
Holidays" cake #SC-14, showing an ebul-
lient Saint Nick holding a bag of goodies
by a Christmas tree, and the idea fell into
my head immediately.
"I want this one," I told the order taker,
"but I need you to change a few things."
The order taker gave me a look and
mumbled under his breath, "But you want
some changes."
"Yes, I want you to change Santa Claus'
suit color to blue and white."
"Blue and white," he said, writing it
down under Special Instructions.
"Yes, and I want you to replace the
Christmas tree with an Israeli flag."
"An Israeli flag?" he asked. A small
group of his fellow workers were overhear-
ing and started to approach.
"Yes, and I'll drop off a picture of one
tomorrow," I said. "And I'll need you to
replace the bag of presents with Israel
Bonds."
"Israel Bonds?" he mumbled some more.
"Yes," I said. "And I want you to change
the slogan from 'Merry Christmas from

Santa,' to 'Season's Greetings from
Chanuklaus.'"
"This'll cost extra," he said.
"Name the price," I said, slipping him a
twenty with no one else looking. Jacksons
will get things done in the big city.
A week later, I stopped by the store to
pick up Chanuklaus and was met by some
of the store's employees who wanted a look
at the man who changed Santa into a fund-
raiser.
The looks varied from amusement to
disgust, but I could care less. I was taking
control of my holiday.
The cake drew only the briefest of com-
ments from the host and hostess, and it
probably would have been a hit at the
party. But the party had been canceled two
days before due to a Chicago Bulls losing
streak brought on by Michael Jordan's first
retirement. We Chicago Jews loved our
hoops.
Since I was only a friend of a friend's
cousin, I didn't get the phone call.
I offered my condolences and hope for a
winning streak, but stuck around long
enough to have some cake. At 35 bucks, I
wasn't about to just give it to them without
a sample, and bringing it home might have
caused an argument. Besides, chocolate
cake with blue icing doesn't go well with
hard cider drinks and Wyndham Hill CDs.
I walked the two miles home, and I
stopped at a sporting goods store on the
way. I bought socks.

GIFT
GUIDE

11/26

2004

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